


3 p.m

by miss_whimsy



Category: Psych
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy/pseuds/miss_whimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-episode ficlet for Cloudy... Chance of Murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 p.m

His dad and Gus were laughing. Hornstock was still standing there, bemused and smiling, as though he had any idea what had just happened.

Shawn ignored all of them and let his feet carry him forwards, up the steps into the station, following Lassiter like he was magnetized. He could feel the frown on his face and he didn't like it one bit. It meant he was confused. It meant he'd gotten something wrong. It meant he'd been surprised.

Very little surprised Shawn. Anything that did was instantly interesting. That's why he was still there after all. Still doing the same job after six months.

He sank into Juliet's empty seat, kicked his feet up onto her desk and settled in to work out the new puzzle.

"She was innocent," Lassiter said without looking up from his work, twenty minutes after Shawn had sat down.

Shawn jumped a little at suddenly being addressed and swung his feet back to the floor, pushing the chair away from Juliet's desk and pulling himself around until he was directly opposite Lassiter.

"Yes," he agreed, and waited.

"So, I didn't want her to go to prison." Lassiter was still scribbling, though a glance down told Shawn he wasn't actually writing anything.

"Naturally," Shawn said, hoping Lassiter would at least look up, even if he wasn't going to be getting to the point any time soon.

His wish was granted, and Lassiter looked up, huffing out a tiny put-upon sigh as he did so. "So, I wanted you to fix it and you did."

Shawn frowned again, tilted his head to the left and held up his hand. "Lassie, please. I worked that out when you were giving your testimony."

"Then why are you staring at me?"

"Because I can't work you out," Shawn told him with a half shrug, turning it into a roll of his shoulders, filing away the way Lassiter's eyes followed the movement.

"Spirits not helping today?" Lassiter asked, dryly, eliciting a grin from Shawn.

One of the best things about Lassiter really, was the fact that he knew Shawn was lying. And he knew Shawn knew he knew. It was a fun game they were playing. It was another thing keeping Shawn interested.

"I would have settled for a thank you," Shawn told him. "Verbally, I mean. Maybe a nice work or good job. Maybe a handshake, hug, slap on the back, slap on the a..."

"Spencer..."

"I mean, you didn't have to do that. So, why did you?" Shawn bit his lip and rested his chin on his hands, watching, waiting.

Lassiter gave up the pretense of writing and sat back in his seat. "You know, it's nice to be on this side for once."

"I can imagine," Shawn murmured, feeling himself smile, even as his eyes continued to flick over Lassiter's face.

"What happens when you figure it out?" Lassiter asked, shifting forward suddenly, leaning over the desk into Shawn's space.

There is was again. Surprise. Stronger even than before and something else, something he didn't even have a name for.

"Yeah," he breathed, sitting back and making himself comfortable. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."


End file.
